Bruised
by Rivergirls Anthem
Summary: What if - ep. 4x07 : Sara gets a cut from a shard of glass and Michael, seeing that she's hurt, panicks and fusses. Very fluffy/a bit of seriousness. Please tell me what you think? Please? Xo, as always!


**A/N : You guys, it seems like I really DID find my inspiration again!! Here's a oneshot that I came up with after watching some Sara-bits. It's a what if?story. The idea is : what if, when all the lights seemed to shatter when they blew the power in the courthouse, a piece of glass from one of the lights/chandelier/whatever, cut Sara right above her eye? Michael gets scared and fussy. **

**Please tell me what you think?**

**Xo, as always**

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"Michael, really, it's just a small cut."

They had just exited – or really, _fled_ – the courthouse after rescuing Mahone and were speeding away in their cars when he noticed she was hurt. He practically jumped onto the backseat, pushing Sucre and Bellick aside so he could be close to her. Sucre, thank God, had taken a hint and had taken shotgun, or at least tried to. Changing positions in a moving vehicle wasn't all that easy to begin with and seeing as they had to get out of there as fast as they could… well, it took some juggling.

So now Michael was fussing. His fingers reached up to the side of her face that was now tainted red because of the small wound just above her eye and hurriedly searched for a cloth to try and stop the bleeding. "You're hurt."

"I'm _fine_. I've dealt with much worse than this, remember?"

Oh, he remembered all right. Remembered how she'd nearly been raped in prison, then how she had been nearly drowned before jumping out a window and falling onto a glass windshield, and more than anything else, there was the memory of his fingers tracing the scars upon her back that very first night. He still felt them underneath his fingertips every time he held her close, and every single time it tore him apart. That was only the physical pain she had gone through, and every single time it had occurred, it had been because of his doing, in some way or the other. He knew she didn't blame him, but that didn't mean that he didn't blame himself.

The idea of losing her was unbearable. When he had thought she was gone forever, he hadn't been able to breathe had been overcome with grief and hate, and the strong sensation of the love he felt.

He couldn't see her hurt. Not even a small cut above her eye. He panicked. It didn't matter to him if it made him seem weak. He _was _so vulnerable when it came to her.

So he took of his shirt and ripped it to shreds, pressing one to her brow. "There goes another shirt." She murmured.

He grinned. "Well, the other one, that was _entirely _your doing, miss Tancredi. I had nothing to do with that."

Sara gasped playfully. "You were asking for it!"

"Hmm…you might be right about that. Now press that against the wound, okay?"

She smirked. "I thought – auch – I was the doctor here."

"Sometimes even a doctor has to take a step aside and let someone else take care of her." He quipped. "Just… let me do this."

"We're here." Lincoln announced, turning around in his seat. "So you two can be all lovey dovey out of the public eye."

Michael glared at him. "I'll go and get the first aid box."

-

"Are you sure you can do it yourself?" He looked at her, a worried expression on his face as she tried to balance the needle and thread in one hand and press the cut together with her other. Her reflection in the mirror smiled at him reassuringly.

"I can do this. I've sewn cuts closed a million times."

"Your _own_ cuts? Above your eye?" She turned around to look at him. "Okay," he amended, "okay. I won't say a word. I'll just stand here, watching in a very un – stalker – y way. Unless you want me to go?"

"You can stay." She squinted her eyes and pierced her skin with the needle, trying to ignore Michael's distorted-with-agony face. "Just don't make that face."

"'m sorry."

"There. You see? All done." She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Didn't I tell you I was fine?" Her lips pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck and she rejoiced in the little sigh following it.

"Yes, you did."

"So are you still going to panick in the future?" Another kiss made him shiver.

"Pr..Probably."

Sara distanced herself a little to be able to look into his eyes. "Michael." She scolded.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and trailing his hands up and down her sides. "I just… I can't see you hurt. I panick and fuss, okay? It's just because I'm so very much in love with you."

"Hmm." She said. "I know how you feel. I mean, if something were to happen to…Lincoln… I'd go out of my mind!"

"That's so not funny."

"I know, honey. So listen. I know that I would probably have a fit if anything would happen to you – I mean, I remember when Abruzzi and his bunch of merry misfits cut off your toes – I was in a complete frenzy and by then I'd only known you for a few days."

She raised her hand to the side of his face and cupped his cheek, loving the way he closed his eyes in complete happiness whenever she did that. "I can't see you hurt either…so I know where you're coming from. And I secretly love the way you panick and fuss."

That opened his eyes. "You do?"

"Yeah. But don't tell, okay?" She pressed her lips to the spot above his eye where her own now held a bandage and leaned against him. "I really love you, Michael Scofield."

"Is that right?"

She hummed her agreement. "Truly, madly, deeply." She whispered, and curled herself around him, her hands holding onto him forever.

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_So? What did you think? Please tell me? Pleaaaase review? Pretty please?_

_XO, as always_


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